


Blood and Duty

by Mysdrym



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysdrym/pseuds/Mysdrym
Summary: Cullen finds it hard to handle the fact that the Herald of Andraste is a blood mage.





	Blood and Duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is a giveaway drabble for @ekoorb over on tumblr!

Of all the things in this world that would bring the promise of salvation, Cullen couldn’t believe that theirs was a blood mage.

The mere thought of it made him prickle.

He’d spent so many years fighting his fears, fighting against the terrors that wouldn’t leave him a decent night’s sleep.

It had been a moment of clarity, there at Kirkwall, as the mages pleaded for their lives, where he had seen his own brethren from Kinloch Hold, pleading for theirs.

There had been a parallel, a moment where something had clicked into place, where everything had made sense and he’d known he was on the wrong side of the fight.

That clarity had left him after Meredith’s death, leaving him searching for what it had been, and with only the shadow of the understanding that he wasn’t the man he’d wanted to be. Twice, he’d tried to pick at that train of thought, to follow it down to what it really meant.

Both times, he’d stopped himself, too terrified by the realities that whispered in his ears.

He couldn’t face the truth of what had happened, of what he’d become.

Not now. Not yet.

But he wanted to find his way back, to be the guardian he’d always dreamed about, and so he’d left the Order for the Inquisition. He’d turned his back on that twisted world that made him want to retch if he dared think about it too long, and tried to find himself outside of the trappings of templars and mages.

He’d thought he might be able to. To walk freely in the sunlight, to come to terms with all that had happened, and maybe finally make sense of it.

To finally catch hold of that clarity again and to not want to shrivel away from it.

And then the Maker had cast him right back into the mess of it.

A fucking blood mage.

He half thought she might have torn the sky open herself—it seemed the sort of heinous thing a blood mage would do—but everyone around him had already decided.

She would be protected, if only for that Maker-forsaken mark on her hand.

Monster that she was, she was the only thing keeping this world together, and Cullen’s sword was sworn to defend her.

It made his skin crawl.

There had to be an alternative for closing the rifts, a way that didn’t depend on someone who would so brazenly defy the Chantry’s teachings.

And yet…

Part of Cullen wanted to believe that this woman, this Elizabeth Trevelyan, could be a good person. The hero they needed. He wanted to think that…perhaps she could be persuaded from the dark path she’d taken.

But every time he started to think such thoughts, a quiet, frantic voice would whisper in his mind, reminding him of what had happened the last time he had so much faith in mages’ ability to resist demonic thralls.

The nightmares were worse with her around.

Or…perhaps it was simply the lyrium leaving his system.

Maybe it was both.

Regardless, until they could find a way to be rid of her or he could convince himself to play the fool and pretend she wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen, he avoided her.

The Commander of the Inquisition, avoiding the rumored Herald of Andraste.

Josephine had chastised him more than once to be a bit more subtle about his dislike of Elizabeth.

Short of mind control, he wasn’t sure there was a way to do that.

Even as he cringed at the idea—how many good templars had he seen taken over by demons in Kinloch?—he pushed the door open to the war room in the back of the Chantry, eyes scanning the papers in his hands as he tried to fend off the latest throbbing in the back of his head.

There were new recruits to place and patrols to set up and...

And he wasn’t alone.

That in itself wouldn’t have been much of a concern—Cassandra and the others came and went as often as he did—but for the fact that a distinctly uncomfortable silence settled over the room as he stopped beside the table.

Pulling his gaze away from his reports, he sucked in a sharp breath before he could stop himself as he met that silvery gaze that he so liked to avoid.

Elizabeth remained where she had been standing before he’d come in, in the spot he normally occupied during the war meetings. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her pale skin, making her look all the more ethereal.

Like a wraith.

Wraiths didn’t have so many scars, to be sure, but the resemblance was uncanny, he was sure.

After all, no one wanted to be trapped alone in a room with either.

Elizabeth appraised him a moment before deciding he wasn’t worth her time and letting her gaze slide back down to the map. She turned herself so that she could read the small print of the cities and towns at the top of the map, in the Free Marches, one finger tracing over them idly as she skimmed them.

When her finger paused on Ostwick, Cullen drew in another sharp breath, realizing rather abruptly that he’d barely been breathing.

Even as he tried to force himself to calm down—she wouldn’t be so foolish as to lash out in the middle of the Inquisition’s base, surely—he found himself under her scrutiny again. Her lips dipped down in a pronounced frown, her expression practically screaming how unimpressed she was with him.

“Is there…something I can help you with?” His attempts to veil his contempt failed spectacularly, and her brow raised for a moment before she rolled her eyes and let her hand slide off the table.

“Not likely,” Elizabeth replied, slow steps taking her around the table and toward the door. “Never did see much of a use for templars. Aside from demon fodder.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction before slipping out into the Chantry’s main room and leaving him to stew in the fact that he had to put his faith in the world’s salvation in a damned maleficar.

Maker, help him.


End file.
